


Run On For A Long Time

by murron



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, M/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murron/pseuds/murron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for 7.21. Cas tells Dean that this garden is a waystation for migratory birds and butterflies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run On For A Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : heavy ones for 7.21  
>  **Standard Disclaimers Apply**  
>  **Warnings** : Character mutilation

  


  


 

Sam drops Dean off at the corner of Christopher and Hudson Street. He walks the rest of the way, passing by an iron fence and a red brick church, trailing a wall until he gets to the gate to the garden.

Few people know the garden of the Church of St. Lukas-in-the-Fields. People of the neighborhood go there in the evenings after work, a LGBT group meets on the lawn in summers and a retired bookshop owner comes here on Saturdays to feed the sparrows. Otherwise it’s pretty quiet.

Kind of ideal for Cas, Dean figures. He reads the entry sign in passing: _No dogs or other pets. Do not pick the flowers or disturb the plantings._

_We ask you to respect the sanctuary of this space._

_Yes_ , Dean thinks. _Perfect_.

Behind the garden gate the air feels cooler. Maybe it’s the shadow of the trees, maybe the earth that always seems to be watered. Slate pathways lead in different directions and because it’s that time of summer, the flowerbeds burst with ferns, hydrangea, pink roses, white impatients. Cas knows all the names and if Dean’s patient, he tells them one by one. He tells Dean that this garden is a waystation for migratory birds and butterflies.

Dean walks down the left pathway, past a girl lying on a bench with a book on her thighs. He comes round the ivy covered tree at the center of the garden to the small spot of lawn that he knows Cas likes. He’s there, sitting on the bench like he always does. Sometimes Dean wonders where Cas goes when he’s not here, or if he goes anyplace at all, because after Rufus’ cabin they’ve only ever met in this garden.

_What are you going to do, Cas?_

_I don’t know. Isn’t that amazing?_

Cas holds his trenchcoat across his lap. He’s swapped the hospital scrubs for gray slacks and a light-blue shirt but his feet are bare. Chances are he took them off to walk over the grass and forgot where he put them. He has his face tipped into the sunlight and a small smile plays around his lips.

Dean stands at a distance and for a second he’s on the brink of turning around. The vacant happiness on Cas’ face is too much to bear, it makes Dean want to scream _come back, come back, please_ , but Cas never does. Dean curls his hands into fists and a sharp pain explodes under his bandage. Pain. Supposed to make you feel real, right?

He relaxes his fingers again, waiting for the rage to fade although he doesn’t know what’s worse now, the anger or the grief. Same difference, maybe. Neither of them matters.

He walks over to Cas and sits down next to him, leaning against the sun-warmed back of the bench. Bees hum in the shrubs behind them and one of them is crawling over the back of Cas’ hand.

“Did you know that honeybees dance in order to communicate?” Cas asks.

“Yeah, they probably won’t allow Baby to be put in a corner either.”

“That was a joke,” Cas states and smiles widely even though Dean knows he didn’t get the reference. He lifts his hand, tilts it carefully and watches the bee climb up to his fingers.

It’s Sam all over again, Dean reflects. His baby brother went to Stanford hoping to find peace, no hurt intended. Cas disappeared behind his eyes, leaving his empty self with the porchlight on. Dean understands. The pressure has been too much, you see, it’s what you do, you retreat. You find a sanctuary and it’s not about the people you leave behind, it’s just you can’t stay where you are and maybe you’ll find your freedom, who knows.

Sometimes Dean wonders why he’s the only one who can’t step off the road, why he needs so many lessons in letting people go. He remembers Cas outside the Toreador motel, all sharp eyes and fierce smile when he told Dean how to handle Lilith.

_Why are you angry?_

_Because you were supposed to be different. You were—_

Dean rubs his good hand over his face. Won’t you listen to him.

“Cas,” he begins.

“That bruise is new,” Cas interrupts, and Dean touches the tender side of his jaw. Still hurts, but that’s what you get when the King of Hell whacks you into a wall.

“You do get into a lot of scrapes,” Cas says, and laughs a little. “I knew a man once, wine merchant in Thebes, that was before Edison invented the lightbulb, very smart, and he got into this brawl—”

“Cas,” Dean cuts him off, and Cas falls silent. His gaze hasn’t left the bee on his knuckles but he ducks his head at Dean’s sharp tone.

All the times Dean called Cas a child; they’re really coming back to bite him in the ass.

Cas huffs a small sigh and Dean’s heart turns over in his chest although he tells it not to, the sudden need for Cas to look up and be himself again so painful it chokes the air from his lungs. “Cas, can you—”

When Cas raises his arm and lets the bee tipple over his wrist, it’s all Dean can do not to grab Cas’ shoulder and force him around. He gets to his feet instead, rakes his fingers back through his hair and thinks he should leave, he should just go. But he looks down at Cas, at his bent head and his bare, grass-stained feet on the path and he still, he can’t— Hell, he has to try. One more time. Dean might be crazy as all get out but this isn’t the way they’re supposed to part.

Dean lets out a breath and sits back down. Maybe it’s his movement or the rustle of his clothes but the bee leaves Cas’ hand and flies away.

“You’re full of purpose tonight,” Cas says, his face turned aside as he watches the bee’s flight.

“It’s day, Cas,” Dean says. He reaches over and closes his hand on the folds of Cas’ trenchcoat. “We’re going after Dick today. Remember?”

“Then there’s a good chance you won’t survive,” Cas says. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Dean clenches his hand into the trenchcoat. Cas’ voice is so idle.

The prophecy that Tran kid translated – it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

_Leviathan cannot be slain but by a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen: A fallen angel, a child of fallen humanity and the king of the fallen._

It took some time but by now Dean and Sam have all they need. The blood of a fallen angel? Provided by Cas. The blood of a human who fell deep and returned? Courtesy of Sam. The blood of the king of the fallen—well after last night Crowley carries around a quart less of life juice than he has before.

A van full of borax, a demon ally out for bloodshed and the knowledge of Dick Roman’s whereabouts.

Yes, in theory they have all they need.

Dean stares at Cas’ profile, hoping for anything, a tightening of his mouth or a twitching muscle in his cheek but Cas remains perfectly impassive. There’s so many things Dean’s been prepared to say but how can he talk to this shell of a person?

_Bobby said you’re the best friend I ever had and he was right. I can’t talk about crap and neither can you and we messed up big. I believe you when you say you’re sorry. Please believe me._

It wouldn’t mean anything to Cas. It sounds meaningless to Dean, too.

Maybe it’s time to stop banging his fists against closed doors.

“Well,” Dean says, and lets go off the coat. “If there’s anymore chicken jokes you want to get off your chest, now’s the time.”

Cas does neither reply nor move, only the shadow of the trees sways gently on his shirt.

That’s that then.

“Okay,” Dean says. He gets to his feet, allowing himself one last gaze at Cas’ averted face. “Be safe Cas, all right?”

When Dean turns around, Cas asks, “Who’s going to kill the Leviathan?”

“Me.” Dean shrugs. “Seems fitting. Perhaps this time around I can actually save somebody.”

He’s about to walk away when Cas’ grabs his hand and Dean freezes. It’s not his good hand Cas is holding, it’s his left, the one with the thick, white bandage.

 _The bone of a righteous mortal_.

It hurts, the way Cas digs his fingers into Dean’s palm but Dean barely notices over the sudden, fast beat of his heart.

Cas pulls at him and Dean turns back slowly, sees Cas staring at his wrapped up hand with a frown. There’s an expression on Cas’ face Dean has thought he’d never see again; his eyes are dark and the squint lines show at the corners. He takes Dean’s hand in both of his, runs his thumb over the empty space where Dean’s pinkie used to be and his frown deepens.

_I would give anything not to have you do this._

Cas’ words, the first words that mattered to both of them and set the course for the rest.

_I would give anything._

Sometimes Dean can’t sleep because he never got around to show Cas, that, yeah, so would he. He would have kept Cas safe if he’d only known how.

Dean tries to take back his hand; it’s instinct, so maybe he does know how to hide after all. But this time it’s Cas who doesn’t let go. His hands are warmed by the sun and the calluses on his palms catch on Dean’s bandage. He’s shaking, too, small tremors running between Cas’ skin and Dean’s.

If Dean had known how to be more than a man he would’ve broken an angel’s fall, he would’ve put himself between Cas and the hard ground.

Cas looks up and opens his mouth but Dean thinks maybe he won’t even hear what Cas says, the blood’s rushing so loud in his ears.

 

  


_fin_  
___________________  
beta by **eretria** & **auburn**  


 

 

 ***a/n** : coda title from Johnny Cash's _God's Gonna Cut You Down_


End file.
